Hard to Swallow
by Iscah McKrae
Summary: Sometimes facing your demons comes at a high price. A late night conversation turns into a test of loyalty and love. - Literati


_Hard to Swallow_

The following night was much calmer. There was still a shadow of the dramatic hanging in the air, and Jess felt the need to both clear and explain it. "There's something else I should have talked to you about before." From her eyes, he could tell she knew that he meant before they were married. He didn't have to explain that part. "_Really_ should have…didn't know how. I thought I could…I dunno, deal with it. That somehow it wouldn't have to affect you. I realize now, that was stupid. A lot of what happened last night could have been avoided. Probably." So much for courage. That seemed to be all that was ready to come out.

"Avoided how?" she asked, running her finger along the side of his face and down his neck, knowing he needed gentle prompting if he were to tell her something that he 'didn't know how' to while they were dating, and 'thought he could deal with,' and now realized he couldn't.

"Pills."

Communication wasn't as hard as it used to be, but monosyllables were still easier to get out…and often communicated quite a bit.

"For what?" she asked softly. A single syllable couldn't answer this one, and the several syllables that it would take were syllables that were particularly difficult to admit to. The single syllable had been hard. Couldn't he just leave it at that? Clearly she knew this was a harder question to answer, because she followed it up with another. "What kind of pills, then?" A little easier. And only two syllables.

"Zoloft." She nodded quietly.

"So…depression?" she asked gently.

"That'd be too easy." Her brow furrowed in apprehension and concern. He tried to laugh. Didn't work. "No. Mental illness runs in the family, don't forget," he said ruefully. "I wasn't skipped." She stayed silent. "So, you're not gonna ask?"

"Don't know if I dare. _Anything_ might set off a lunatic," she teased softly to lighten the mood. Normally, he would have shot back…or at least tickled her to near breathlessness. Right then, he just smiled…grateful. She gave him the courage to utter the problematic syllables.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder. On the meds since I was twenty," he confessed. Matt and Chris were the only other human beings who knew, and he hadn't given the information voluntarily.

"So that explains the transformation…maturity in a bottle." He knew she didn't mean the words unkindly. So he tried not to take them that way. She was still teasing him so he wouldn't close himself off. Still stung a little.

"Yeah, partly."

"Well, that and a lot of hard work," she added. Okay, that made it better. She understood. He took a deep breath and released it. "So, why did you go off the meds?" she asked, knowing she would only get the answers to her questions a little at a time.

"They, uh…have side effects," he said, raising his eyebrows when he paused. "I wanted to at least make sure we had a decent honeymoon." She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes slowly. Guilt flooded over him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I _should've_ told you. It's not fair! You deserve _a choice._ And, I don't mean I _can't!_ I just mean-" She held a hand to his lips.

"You _should've_ told me. You should've _told_ me before you did something that risky for my sake!" She knew her husband well.

"Come on - like _I got nothing _out of the deal?" he returned, his eyes taunting her subtly.

"I mean, you do have a beautiful mind, but is it really worth risking getting chased by people who are shooting at you to get your government secrets, just so that I'll feel desirable?" The reference did make him laugh, even as it made starkly plain the potential agony of the situation.

"There's no point in being nuts if you can't have a little fun," he quoted back, trying to smile. "Besides, I need to believe that something extraordinary is possible."

"You _need _to go back on them," Rory told him seriously. He nodded. After what had happened the previous night, that wasn't really a point he could debate. "So…does that mean…" she hesitated to ask anything more for fear of wounding him.

"I have no idea what it means. Never tried it out," he said frankly. She frowned for a moment, and then her eyes went wide.

"You-"

"And if you _ever_ _tell anybody_ that - _especially_ your mom - I _will_ kill you!" he threatened. Her eyebrows raised still further and she was obviously fighting against an amused expression as hard as she possibly could. "_Shut up!_" he warned, ninety-five percent joking…okay, maybe less. He glared at her. "It's the stupid pills!" he insisted.

"You weren't pining?" she teased, eyes sparkling.

"Guys don't pine like that! Guys pine with a bottle of whisky and a hooker!"

"Uh-_huh_…" she said slowly.

"I was _not_ _pining!_" He knew he wasn't fooling anybody. But, he had his pride to consider. What precious little of it was left. If she wasn't pining, then neither was he. He was…busy being Kerouac…or something.

"You do know it's not the same, don't you?" she asked quietly. He didn't know. He didn't know what she was talking about, anyway. "PTSD. It doesn't mean you're crazy. And it doesn't run in families."

"Tendency toward dissociative disorders does. It's one of them. Tendencies toward those kinds of mental illnesses run in families. The disorders themselves don't. That's why I don't have the same one as my mom."

"Well, that and she didn't have a childhood like yours."

"The same kinds of things can trigger both. Her mind slipped one way, mine another - not her fault."

"What triggered hers?"

Jess shrugged. "Who knows . . . Her mom's death, maybe. No idea, really."

"And, the PTSD… What symptoms did you…do you…? You know," Rory asked vaguely.

His lips twitched nervously and he shrugged a little. He got out the words with effort. "Flashbacks. Nightmares, sometimes. Too scared at night to sleep. Difficulty facing certain people, places, situations…talking about certain subjects… All the usual suspects. Don't usually flip out like I did last night. You got the special introduction. Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize, Jess. Not for…" she trailed off, uncertain how to finish the sentence.

"Don't ask me not to be sorry you saw that. Or that you have to deal with this…me…the way I am. Or the meds," he contested seriously. "None of it's gonna be easy. And I didn't tell you what you were getting into."

"I've known you longer than you've been on any medication, Jess. And, when I said the 'in sickness and in health' part, I wasn't just reciting words. I signed up for the long haul, no matter what that involves." She wasn't done talking. At least she wasn't until Jess' lips were on hers, gratefully, hungrily…in blessed disbelief at the woman he'd married. By the time they pulled apart, she was gasping for breath. "I love you, Jess!" But he smothered any further conversation and replied only with his lips and the loving caresses of his hands.

He pulled back just for a moment, looking into her eyes. "You are the most wonderful woman on earth…and I don't _ever_ want you to forget that. You are sweet, and wise, and beautiful, and sensual, and desirable, and I am desperately in love with you." His voice began to warble a little. "I may not always be able to show you that in the way that I want to…but I haven't started taking any medications yet tonight." Jess Mariano's heart was in his eyes and a current of love flowed through them. Rory's smile beamed, even though halfway through Jess' words she'd burst into tears. A moment later, he could taste her tears. It was almost as if he could taste her smile, and it tasted like sunlight and laughter. Somehow the joy and the tears and the passionate all-encompassing love made this moment, and the moments which followed it, something sacred, something all their own, spectacular and untouchable. It was the sort of moment no trouble or sorrow could ever rob them of…no pain could ever steal. It was eternal.


End file.
